Page 58 of Tangled Hearts (Mended Hearts #4)

Nic

F uck.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. I haven’t even touched him. He hasn’t touched me.

It’s not even about that. It’s about the sweet submission in his eyes. The quiet trust blazing in the green. The way his entire body relaxed when I started talking to him. Fuck, he just melts for me, and it’s such a turn-on.

I tighten my grip on his throat, smiling to myself when his breath catches. “Look at me.” He does, his eyes locking on mine. I drop my hand. “Eli, are you sure this is what you want?”

He nods, but I need more than that. I need vocal confirmation. “No. I need words.”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Holy shit. “What do you say if you want to stop?”

“No or apple pie.”

“Good boy.”

His lips part as he exhales. He wants to be good for me so badly. He always is. It makes me want to worship him. It makes me want to fucking ruin him. Tonight, I think I’ll do both.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking like a wet dream come to life, but I want to see how far I can push him. Want to see just how far he wants to take this. How good he wants to be for me.

I stand in front of him. He’s wearing a pair of sweats right now, but I watched him get dressed, so I know he’s wearing a blue thong under them.

I know it cups his dick like it was made for him.

I know the string sits perfectly between the round globes of his ass.

And I know he looks fucking sinful. So I help him to his feet and strip his sweats off, then pull his shirt over his head.

His chest rises and falls quickly. Sitting him back down, I place my hands on the insides of his thighs and push his legs apart.

He’s already hard. Already ruining the material of his panties with his pre-cum.

He doesn’t fight me, and when I get him positioned, knees spread wide, palms resting on his thighs, he doesn’t move.

“Let me get you something to wear, and your makeup bag.”

It would truly be a shame to cover up his body, so I pull out a pair of sheer stockings with little bows at the top. I haven’t been lucky enough to see them on him yet, but I know they’ll look fucking amazing. I’m actually not even sure if he’s worn them, but that’s going to change tonight.

After grabbing them, and his makeup bag from the bathroom, I come back into the bedroom. He’s sitting right where I left him, hands still on his thighs, legs still spread.

“Good boy.”

I step between his legs, placing the makeup bag on the bed. I’m a little surprised when he doesn’t look up at me, but when I realize why, my cock jerks. Fuck, he’s not moving because I didn’t move him .

I tilt his chin back, staring into his slightly dazed eyes. He’s already going hazy, and I love that I can take him there.

I touch his bottom lip, smiling when he lets out a stuttering little breath. I’ve gotta get these stockings on him. I need to see how fucking hot he looks in them. It’s a need at this point. Not even a want anymore.

Settling on my knees between his legs, I lift one, carefully working the stocking up his leg.

When I’m done, it’s sitting right above his knee, the little bow resting against his thigh.

I press my lips to the inside of his thigh and set his leg back on the ground, then put the other stocking on his other leg.

His breathing is deep and even, and when I stand back up, his head is still tilted back like I left it. Oh goddamn. That should not be so fucking hot.

I take a second to drink in the sight of him. He’s so damn pretty. My pretty little doll. “Let’s get your face done, baby.”

He blinks at me but doesn’t move. I rummage through his bag. I’m not going to do a full face. Mostly because even though I’ve watched him do it a million times, I have no faith in my own ability. I grab his highlighter, some lipstick, his eyeliner, and mascara.

“Nic,” he rasps, and my throat closes up as I drop the contents back into the bag.

I cup his jaw in my hands, searching his face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Just…” He slowly blinks at me. “In the drawer, I have some that’s not waterproof.”

Relief washes over me. “You want me to use that?”

He nods. “Yes, please.”

“You can talk,” I say, studying him.

“Don’t want to,” he mumbles .

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. But I won’t care if you do, so don’t be afraid to, okay?”

He nods again, slower this time. I press a kiss to his lips, then leave to go grab what I need from the bathroom.

My hands shake a bit when I’m standing in front of him again, his chin clasped gently in my hand. He’s staring up at me in silence, his body relaxed and soft. Well, not his whole body.

The lipstick is the easiest to apply, and when his lips are red and shiny, I carefully dust his highlighter over his cheekbones. I tilt his face back and forth so I can see it shimmer in the dim light of the room. It’s a lot harder to put this shit on than he makes it look, but it’s fine.

I drop the highlighter back into the bag and pick up the liner. This is the part I’m most worried about. “Close your eyes, doll.”

His eyes fall shut, and he takes a long, slow breath. I’m careful as I try to replicate the way he wings the liner, but after a second, his lips quirk up. “What are you smiling about?”

He’s quiet, but I can practically feel how smug he is. Okay, so I’m not an expert at applying eyeliner. It’s… not great, but he still looks fucking stunning.

I uncap the mascara and dust it over his eyelashes. His grin deepens. “You’re not allowed to make fun of me, doll.” Not tonight, anyway. I’m sure tomorrow he’ll have all sorts of shit to say about it.

“You’re not doing it right,” he whispers.

Fucking brat. I finish his mascara, then step back to take in my work. “Eyes open.” He listens—of course he does—staring up at me with wide eyes. Okay, so I really botched the liner, and I’m pretty sure only half of his lashes have mascara on them. “You look so fucking beautiful, my doll. ”

He quirks a brow, a bit of defiance shining in his eyes. I step between his legs and slide my fingers into his hair at his nape, tugging gently. “I know I didn’t do it right, but that’s okay. Do you know why?”

He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move. Barely even blinks. Goddamn, my dick is about to bust through my zipper. “It doesn’t matter that I did it wrong, doll. Because I’m going to ruin it anyway.”

His breath catches, and when I run my free hand down his chest and cup his dick, he lets out a little half-whimper before he gets control of himself again. Oh, this is going to be so fucking fun.

I push him backward, and he goes easily, dropping to the bed. I climb up, moving him until he’s on his back, his head propped on the pillow. I straddle his chest, careful to keep my weight off him.

When I unzip my jeans, Eli breathes out heavily. Fuck. You and me both, doll. My cock springs free, so fucking hard it hurts, and the sight of him spread out below me—my fucking masterpiece—isn’t helping matters.

I stroke myself once, watching his throat work as he swallows. I cup the back of his head, moving forward so I can drag my cock over his lips. His eyes flutter closed. “Fuck. My beautiful little doll.”

He lets out a whimper. But God, he’s trying so hard to be good for me. And he is. He’s absolute perfection, so I tell him as much.

I slip a finger past his lips and force his jaw down, opening his mouth. “That’s it. I want to fuck my doll’s pretty little face.”

His breath hitches, and I press down on his tongue with my thumb before moving my hand and gripping the base of my cock. “Tap my leg twice to stop. Nod if you understand.”

He gives me a short, decisive nod, bringing his hand up to rest against my thigh .

“Good boy.” I press forward, letting the head of my cock push past his parted lips. He closes them around me, and my eyes roll back. “Fuck.”

I snap my hips, watching my cock disappear into the wet heat of his mouth.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t gag. He’s breathing through his nose, eyes locked on me.

His jaw drops, and I push further. His eyes flare for a second, but then his lashes flutter, and I can feel his throat relax.

Can feel when he lets me go deeper. “My gorgeous little doll,” I groan, rocking my hips and fucking into his mouth. “Look at you. My little plaything.”

His eyes flutter closed. I drag my cock out and thrust in again. He lets out a choked noise, and I pause, but he doesn’t tap my thigh, so I do it again, watching him as his eyes start to water.

I work my cock down his throat, barely holding it together, and rub off the tears at the corner of his eye, smearing the black down his cheek. “Told you I’d mess it all up, doll.”

He moans, his throat contracting around the head of my cock. “Dolls aren’t supposed to make sounds,” I softly chide him. “Mine seems to be defective, since he keeps moaning like a cock slut.”

He moans again, the vibration working its way up my cock and settling in my balls.

I push deeper, rotating my hips until my dick’s buried in his throat and his nose is pressed against my pubic bone.

When I pull out, he inhales a sharp breath.

“You wanted me to treat you like a toy, but you’re too needy to keep those desperate little noises inside, aren’t you?

” He whimpers, blinking up at me with tear-filled eyes.

I push my cock back into his mouth, groaning when I hit the back of his throat. “Jesus Christ.”

I can’t keep doing this, or I’m gonna blow, and that’s not what I want. I’m not sure it’s what he wants, either. I pull out, staring down at my cock and the string of saliva connecting to his mouth .

“So fucking pretty.”

I climb off him and strip down. I need to be inside him. Like right fucking now. When I’m naked, I lean over the bed and hook my arm around him, dragging him to the edge. He’s pliant, quite literally like a rag doll, his body loose. “Eli?”